


Bits and Pieces

by Iris_Celeno



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Declaration of Love, F/M, Friendship, Leanne rules, Quite mushy I'm afraid, Rejecting the ex, Stand-alone stories, non-canon, the title says it all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iris_Celeno/pseuds/Iris_Celeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two stories I wrote before episode 15 and 16 aired, respectively. This is how I hoped the Grace situation (chapter 1) and Neal's announced conflict with Campbell (chapter 2) had gone down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. With or without you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseandheather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/gifts).



> Dedicated to roseandheather who suggested I post these stories (until I can finish an Ed/Leanne for you). They lack context and I'd have probably worked more on them had canon not debunked my ideas, although funnily one or two weren't far from the truth; but I realized they were quite readable after all...or so I hope :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace misunderstood Neal's feelings, and it caused grief to Christa. Neal sets everybody straight.  
> Non beta-ed and please forgive any mistake you mind find (in spite of the multiple edits to correct those I found!)

“Maybe we could have breakfast,” Grace proposed, smiling, joining his side of the rows in the empty locker room.

“I'm sorry, I have other plans,” Neal answered absently. Christa seemed withdrawn, today. He had seen her treating a little boy with Leanne, at the beginning of tonight's shift. Maybe the memories of her son plagued her. He couldn't wait to get home, to her. Home...a few weeks, and he thought of her as home...

Grace put her hands on her hips, interrupting his daydreaming. “How long do you think you can ignore the elephant in the room?”

“Excuse-me?” he turned towards her, puzzled.

She stayed silent for a second. She didn't seem to expect his genuine surprise.

“I'm here, Neal.”

“Yes, I see that. But I wouldn't liken you to an elephant,” he joked. 

Grinning, she took a step forward and reached out to place a hand on his arm. But at the same time, he stepped aside to grab his jacket in his locker, evading her gesture. She sighed.

“Listen, I know I made a number on you. But what we had was good. We can figure it out.”

He was putting his jacket on, and froze mid-move. She gave him an understanding smile.

“Neal, I'm sorry I left. I should have insisted more you come with me. But now, I'm back.”

“What are you talking about,” he uttered. 

“Listen, I know who you're seeing. It's doctor Lorenson, isn't it?” she silenced him with a gesture of the hand before he could talk. “As if I wouldn't guess. And I can see why you're attracted to her, you know. But come on, you and I both know what truly is.”

“Grace!” he chastised. He just couldn't believe his ears, and was so shocked that no other word came to him.

“You have the right to be mad at me for placing my career and aspirations before our relationship. But I've been where you are. I was sad and angry that you didn't follow me, and I had a rebound, too. I know it gets people a little crazy, I know it makes us want to believe it's the real thing, because we need to deny the relationship that was before it. But it isn't.” 

“How would you know it isn't?” he asked very slowly, before he could help himself. 

“Because you can't be as indifferent to me as you seem. Neal, you've been avoiding me. You don't make time for just the two of us, you're so terribly polite, as if I was just another colleague, as if nothing ever happened between us. We used to be _friends_ before we got together. So it's obvious to me that a part of you is still angry and hurt and you don't know how to deal with it but by pretending it doesn't exist. My return affects you and you're trying to hide it. We aren't really over. It's the elephant in the room. And you won't make it disappear thanks to a fling with...”

“A fling?” he cut her short. “You think I'm the kind of man who has flings with residents?”

Finally, finally, his outraged tone managed to reach her. She gazed at him, nonplussed.

“I don't imply that you're a player, I know you better. As I said, you're on the rebound and...”

“I think you should stop talking, Grace, before you embarrass us both even more.” 

She crossed her arms on her chest, standing firm on her feet. 

“You should have taken what you saw as face value, Grace,” he stated calmly, but with unmistakable conviction. 

She made a face, her incredulity showing.

“You're telling me that we're really over ?”

“Precisely.”

“Hey, I know you're loyal. I know you're decent. I understand that you don't want to hurt Dr Lorenson, but you have to be honest here.” 

“I am. I'm sorry, I thought I had been clear enough. Grace, I was disappointed when you left. Disappointed, not heartbroken. It made me realize that my work here wasn't the reason I refused to follow you.” 

He marked a pause, let it sink until she drew the same conclusion he did then, conclusion he was too much of a gentleman to spell out.

“I assumed, then, that you left for the same reason I stayed. Since we parted amicably and in my mind, without lingering feelings on either side, I truly believed that upon your return we could be friendly colleagues, maybe friends down the road. Nothing more.”

She stared at him in complete disbelief. “You can't be serious.”

“Don't I look serious? ” he asked, unable to hide a rising irritation at her stubborn denial. “Listen, Grace, I would apologize for leading you on, if I saw anything in my behavior that could pertain to it.”

She was still mute, obviously reviewing their few interactions, her face darkening as she did, now that her blinders were off.

“And if you know me better, how could you imagine that I would betray the woman I'm with? Which I guess now that breakfast offer was about?”

He sounded insulted...and with reasons, she had to admit, if he thought that she intended to seduce him. 

“I didn't think you'd cheat on her,” she retorted. “But I thought it'd open your eyes...I can't believe it.”

“You can't believe that I don't fall on my knees in front of you and break-up with Christa at the snap of your fingers? I've known you to be less conceited.” He couldn't mask his annoyance anymore, and his tone was clipped.

She flinched. “It isn't what I meant.”

“Yet, it is very much how it sounded.”

She looked into his eyes, and although his expression was less stern than earlier, she found there no trace of fondness, and no spark of lust. He was annoyed and he didn't care to conceal it. She couldn't go on fooling herself that he hid his real feelings under a noncommittal mask. And if he didn't have regrets, if he truly was over her, unlike what she had thought...she indeed didn't come off well.

But she was right about one thing. What they used to have was good. She could offer him more. 

“I'm sorry for that, then,” she conceded. “But a resident...I have to admit, I like the girl myself, and she has potential. I told you, I see the attraction. Doctor Lorenson is pretty...”

“She's beautiful.”

Although she had misconstrued his attitude, Grace still knew Neal quite well, and those three words finally convinced her. The simple statement, the slightly wistful tone, the softer light in his eyes as he evoked the blonde...for Neal Hudson, it was akin to a declaration of love shouted in the middle of center stage during a code black.

She took a deep breath. A sensation of loss, or rather of being defeated, replaced her previous hopes. But...

“Neal, I was sincere earlier, when I told you I cared for you. I have your back. Do you realize that your affair is putting your career at risk? And hers, for that matter. What if HR gets wind of it?”

“It isn't a mere affair, and we already informed HR, thank you.”

“You what?” She couldn't but hear that she squeaked more than she asked.

“Two months ago, I informed the board that Christa and I are in a committed relationship.”

She was so astonished that the embarrassment born from her wrong assumptions and the disappointement born from Neal's rejection just disappeared. Evaporated into thin air. She plopped ungracefully on the bench. 

“Wow,” she murmured. 

“We don't want to publicize our relationship, so as to keep the rumor mill to a minimum. I'd be grateful if you kept it to yourself. Actually, maybe we could forget this whole conversation.”

She was still overwhelmed, but she recognized a peace offering when she was given one and acquiesced silently. He nodded in answer, and was closing his locker when she remembered...

“Neal, wait.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his attitude back to cautious.

“Talking with doctor Lorenson, I might have implied...quite strongly, that you weren't over me.” 

His face fell. “What?”

“As I told you, I rather like her. So, I thought she deserved a heads-up...I wanted to be fair.”

She expected him to be angry, but he seemed deeply concerned instead.

“I'm sorry, Neal. I shouldn't have done that. I was so certain...”

“I know you're sincere...but I can't talk to you right now,” he just said. 

He left in hasty strides, without looking back.

 

***

“Christa, are you here?” he asked worriedly, closing the door of his flat. 

Usually, when she arrived before him, she put on some music. It was often something he didn't know, always something he came to love. She used to teach music and singing before her son was born, it was one of the few details she had shared with him about her previous life.

But the place was silent, and if not for her leather jacket and bag dropped on the desk near the entrance, and her shoes at its feet, he would have thought she wasn't there. He couldn't imagine her not being there.

“Yes.” 

She was in the bedroom, but her voice sounded so faraway.

He found her resting on the bed, still clothed in bleached jeans and a grey T-shirt. With her blond hair down, without make-up, she looked so young. She turned towards him slowly, almost reluctantly, and as she did he discovered uncertainty in her gaze. Something vulnerable. Something he had promised himself she'd never feel because of him.

There was another detail she had shared with him, or rather, had escaped her one day after an exhausting shift had made her lower the guard she carefully kept around the painful parts of her past. Her husband didn't just leave her. He had waited until he found someone else to leave with, and had made no particular effort to avoid flaunting it in her face.

_It wasn't the heartbreak, Neal, at the time I had no more heart to be broken. It was the betrayal, the low blow...it was as if he told me I had no value, no right to respect, now that my son was no more. The memories of our past happiness were the only thing I had left, and by tainting them he robbed me even of that solace._

But when Christa plunged her gaze into his, intense relief spread on her face and a spark came to life in her blue orbs. She let out a long cleansing sigh. Then the corner of her lips lifted weakly, very tentatively.

The grip around his heart eased up, he exhaled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. She was all right. They were going to be allright. 

She sat up, on her crossed legs, while he settled next to her on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. Propped on one hand, the other cupping her cheek, he leaned in for a kiss that he had intended light, tender and reassuring, but ended up long, deep and all-consuming. 

“I'm so sorry,” he began as they parted, his hand still stroking her face, her hand still grasping the collar of his V-neck. “Christa, I had no idea. I had cleared things with her.”

She didn't ask him how he knew. She didn't ask for explanations. It confirmed what he feared when he finally linked her withdrawn state to Grace. Christa wasn't one to be affected by insinuations. She would have shrugged them off. There was something deeper at work. 

“You did nothing wrong. You don't have to justify anything, and less to apologize. I shouldn't have let what she said get to me. I know you. I trust you. It isn't even really about her...I didn't feel threatened by her, not as a woman. It's...it's just...” 

A sharp pain stabbed his heart as he watched her shake her head and try to overcome her emotion. His hand was now sliding up and down from her neck to her shoulder, the other losing itself in the silky softness of her hair. He couldn't stop touching her. He could never stop touching her.

She raised soulful eyes to him, and he was overwhelmed by what he saw in them.

“I got afraid that life was going to play another dirty trick on me, you see, and that she was the trigger...I was scared that you'd come home today, and you wouldn't look at me the same way...scared that what we have was gone, because you realized your feelings for me weren't enough...” 

He pressed lightly his palm on her nape, bringing her forehead to rest against his. He could feel her breath on his face, feathering on his lips. 

“Christa, I couldn't humanly feel more than I do for you.”

She smiled tearfully and scooted closer, her arms locking around his neck. He lifted her by the waist, helping her move until she straddled him. She took his face between her hands, her small, dainty hands, and he couldn't hold back a sigh of pure pleasure.

“I've been so happy with you, so...so carefree, in a way...I forgot how bliss can be ripped away from you...but today I suddenly realized I could lose you and...” her voice broke on the last words.

“Never. Never,” he repeated, searching for her gaze, wanting to convey his absolute certitude. 

No one, nothing would take Christa away from him. The very idea was unbearable, made him panic. As if she felt his sudden turmoil, she threaded her fingers in his hair. Immediately, his tension dissolved in the blissful sensation. He gathered her closer to him, stroking her back in the same unhurried, almost lazy rhythm. Comforting, knowing, loving.

“With my son, you're the best thing that ever happened to me,” she confessed. 

She had gotten a grip on her emotions and her tone was more confident, but no less fervent. Her words, her husky voice, the way she looked at him saying it made his heart skip a beat, or maybe two, before setting it on a wild, hectic run. He could hear his blood drumming at his temples.

“You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

His answer cleared the last clouds in her eyes, a hundred of emotions passing through their brilliant blue as she leaned over and once more, rested her forehead against his. Sighing at the same time, holding each other, they savored the moment of closeness, of serene communion. Then her mouth slowly arched in a knowing, self-deprecating smile.

“Even with all the baggage?” 

How could he not love her, he thought. How could he _not_ be crazy about her?

“All the more for it,” he affirmed. 

She closed the distance between their lips, for a kiss so sweet and delicate it took his breath away.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she wondered aloud. 

His hands passed under her T-shirt, cruising once more across her back, sliding down her waist, skimming against her stomach. He felt her tremble in his arms, then she pressed closer to him, chest to chest, hip to hip. He bent his head down, placing open-mouth kisses from the curve of her jaw to the crook of her neck, reveling in the feel of her fingers tightening against his skull, of her pulse throbbing erratically under his lips. 

“You're perfect, that's what you did,” he whispered against her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this, I only knew that Neal's ex Grace was back from Haiti and Christa was going to feel “insecure”. And I'm sorry that the show didn't use an angle like this one instead of what it went for.  
> I had absolutely no idea whatsoever about how to dose the sugar syrup because all of those feelings about my OTP. Hopefully, no one overdosed! I'll possibly re-use some ideas here in future fics, if they fit canon.


	2. Crazy little thing called love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal is at the end of his rope. Christa offers comfort, but their conversation takes an unexpected direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non beta-ed, please forgive any mistake you might find

“We could have saved this man,” Neal spat, throwing his surgical mask and gloves in the general direction of William Campbell. Without waiting for an answer, his usual poise nowhere in sight, the ER attending stalked out of Center Stage. 

The place was buzzing with disapproval, and it warmed Christa's heart that it was directed against the insufferable egomaniac. She wanted to go after Neal, wanted to comfort him so bad that she could taste it, but it would be giving away their relationship and they didn't need more complications right now.

“I'm the head of surgery and you owe me...”

“Nothing,” Mike Leighton tersely cut short Campbell's tirade. “If anything, you owe Neal an apology. He was right, and you refused to listen.”

Furious, William Campbell turned towards Leanne Rorish, the director of the ER. 

“You let your subordinates talk like this to the head of surgery?”

Leanne said nothing. For thirty long seconds she gave him one of her famous stares, the one that said she didn't suffer fools gladly or more exactly, that she didn't suffer fools _at all_. Even the giant surgeon finally lost a bit of his composure under her piercing gaze. There were no other open reactions to the standoff than Mario's vindicated grin and Jesse's proud smile, but everyone including Campbell was now aware of one thing. There was one and only boss in the room, and her name was Daddy. 

As if on cue, Leanne clapped her hands. 

“We're back in code green, but it doesn't mean we don't have work to do. Doctor Savetti, I believe your lab results are back. Rollie, can you see that with him? Angus, Malaya, prepare your patient so that he can be taken upstairs. Mama,” she just had to add, and the nurse began to give directives to his team. “Doctor Campbell, Mike, I'll have a word with you two, if you may.”

Leanne turned on her heels without waiting for the two men, in another show of silent yet blatant authority. But after a couple of steps, she turned to Christa, as if she had an afterthought. 

“Dr.Lorenson, go to Radiology and get me Mrs Walker's X-rays. I asked for them four hours ago. Then, we'll review the case together.”

The resident kept her face carefully schooled, mirroring the director's noncommittal expression. Only, when their gazes briefly crossed, encouragements were given and thanks were expressed.  
Leanne had gotten these results two hours ago. She was giving her the opportunity to go and talk with Neal.

Christa hurried where she knew he would be, so concerned about him that she barely rejoiced hearing, as she passed by, the ER director sternly dressing down their upstairs nemesis. 

***

Neal was outside, on the tenth floor rooftop. Their place. It was very dark at night, since there were only two white lights on each side of the door and another orange one on the wall at the far end of the terrace. Usually, she liked the eerie, gloomy atmosphere it created, it made the city lights even brighter and more beautiful in contrast. Right now, though, she could have done with a little more light to brighten their mood.  
Neal had his back to her but his mere stance allowed her to assess the extent of his anger and frustration. He spun around at the now familiar squeak of the door, his eyes dark, his mouth grim, his hands fisted. 

“I can't go on like this,” he let out, an edge of disgust and exhaustion in his voice, as she stopped right in front of him.

“Not at work” was their motto. Aside from a few stolen kisses in the parking lot, because they couldn't help themselves just before or just after long, frustrating and harrowing shifts, they were sticking to it. 

But this time, she didn't hesitate. Gazing straight into his eyes, she delicately took his face between her hands. He closed his eyes at the contact, a shudder coursing through his tense body. She then stroked his jaw, his cheeks, her touch light and soothing. Under her ministrations, his expression relaxed, his fists unclenched, and after he exhaled a long sigh, his breathing evened. Soon, his arms found their way around her waist and rested there, in a loose grasp. When he lifted his lids again, rage was gone. 

His eyes on hers, he turned his head to the side and placed a swift, warm kiss at the center of her palm; it made her shiver in turn.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Neal's words were always deceptively simple, it was his low voice that conveyed all the weight of them. Her hands slid back, to lock around his nape, caressing it up and down, her touch still light as a feather. She wished she could offer more to him than this small emotional support. He was really exhausted, she thought as she observed him, and not only physically. The small wrinkles around his eyes were more marked, his complexion a bit pale. He was at the end of his rope, and Neal wasn't the kind of man who tired easily. 

“Can you tell me what it is? What it really is?” she asked sofly. 

He considered her, and gave her the ghost of a smile. 

“Can't fool you,” he sighed. 

“Nope,” she confirmed with a vigorous nod. “You're the most patient man I know, Neal, and Campbell certainly isn't the first asshat you ever worked with. There must be something else.”

His expression sobered at her mention of the head of surgery. 

“That's the problem, you see. I don't work with him. I spend half of my time in the OR since Cole left and they still didn't replace him, and during that time I actually work _for_ Campbell. It makes me feel like...”

“A lowly resident?” she provided as he was searching for his words, her lips curving in a tentative, self-deprecating smile.

He grinned back, gathered her a bit closer.

“I'm used to a certain authority as an attending, and indeed, it isn't easy to relinquish it, and less to relinquish it for someone I do not care for,” he admitted, grinning once more against his own volition when she raised a brow at what she knew was his very British way of defining “someone whose guts I hate with the fire of a thousand burning suns”. 

He stayed silent for a second and when he talked again, his voice was even lower and his gaze serious. “But you're really not far off the mark. It takes me back, Christa, to a place I didn't like.”

“Your surgical residency.” It wasn't a question. 

He nodded. 

“Being constantly tested, constantly asked to prove myself just for the sake of it, for the sake of competition...being asked to lose myself by fitting in a mold I'm not made for, by adopting attitudes I despise, by submiting to principles I deeply oppose. I've been there, done that. And if I didn't accept it from my father, when I was young, it isn't to accept it from an inferior model of surgeon, at my age and at this point in my career. My father never saw his patients as a mean to an end,” he added. “He and I might not see eye to eye when it comes to the best way of practicing medicine, but every patient was important to him. Every single one of them was a life to be saved. He had respect for those he treated. And even when he was impossible and I wanted to throttle him, I respected him.”

She acquiesced, wholeheartedly. Peter Hudson was certainly a difficult man, an arrogant type of surgeon, and she had no doubt that he was demanding father, too. But she had also seen his gentle side, his sympathetic side. After all, he could have shrugged her off when she went to talk to him during the quarantine, and he had been nothing but nice and polite. She had also witnessed his love for his wife and for his son. She had yet to see anything in William Campbell that didn't revolve around his pride and ego.

“And now, you have to play by the rules of someone you despise.”

“It's so frustrating,” he confessed in a ragged breath. “Even when I compel myself to follow those rules, I can't help people as much as I could. It's as if everything has to be a lose/lose. This man today, Keith Harris...he could have had better. We could have done better.” 

“I know it isn't going to be much of a comfort to you, but I'll say it anyway. Everyone, including Campbell, knows that you were right.”

“It doesn't change anything for my patient, no,” he let out sadly.

She had said something similar to him, almost word for word, on the day they first kissed. Instinctively, like back then, they rested their foreheads against each other's, closing their eyes, united in the feeling of loss. A desperate need to help him, to offer him more than mere solace, sent her mind into a spin. 

“And yet, you feel that you can help more people if you're allowed in an OR. You love surgery.” It wasn't a question, either.

“But I can't go on like this, Christa,” he confessed. “This situation is impossible. I can't help people if my privileges are granted and revoked on a whim, against the facts.”

“The facts,” she repeated. “You're sure that what you proposed was the safest way to save that man. Safer than what Campbell chose. It's undeniable fact?”

“I'm bloody sure of it,” he retorted, unable to stifle hurt surprise in his tone. “But if you don't take my word for it...”

She shook hear head impatiently, focused on her idea. “Oh, Neal, of course I take your word for it. I meant, can you prove it in front of the board. Can Campbell bullshit his way out of it, or not?”

He stared at her for a long moment, doing the math, reviewing the situation. She felt almost giddy when a sparkle of hope and a combative light replaced little by little the dull ache in his black gaze.

“No, I don't think that he can,” he said slowly. 

“Leanne was furious, you know, and when I left she was telling Campbell that she was taking it to the highers-up. She can, since it happened in Center Stage. Her turf. Use this opportunity. Confront HR. You're wearing yourself out doing double duty. And your surgeon privileges can't be left to the whim of one person, they can't be granted and taken as it pleases him. It isn't more legal than if you were practicing without them. The suits let it be because it saves them money, they don't care about anything else. As you said, you're spending half your time in surgery, lately. Your so-called lack of training is pure hypocritical pretext to save a few dollars and avoid paying you like a surgeon.”

“Getting the privileges would still make me Campbell's subordinate.”

“Not if you're a trauma surgeon specifically assigned to the ER. You could ask to be placed under Leanne's authority. Since you'd belong to both departments, why would you automatically depend from Surgery? And I can bet that Leanne would be on board with this. Otherwise, you tell them to find a full time surgeon and pay him a full time salary, while you're doing the job you're paid for as an ER attending.”

“You want me to rebel.”

His deadpan delivery told her all she needed to know. He liked the idea. No, he loved the idea, and he was going to do it.

“You did against your father,” she remarked, keeping her tone light on purpose. “And see where it got you.”

“There and back again,” he joked. He held her closer to him still, kissed her temple. “I can't do anything for the patient I lost today, but if this works, I can do better for others...at the very least, I'll be allowed to do my best. If the board doesn't reject my ultimatum, of course.”

“Ha! They need you more than you need them. You're as gifted for surgery as you are for emergency medicine. Harbert, at least, knows exactly how useful you are to the hospital. Plus, with the number of times he personally called you in the last weeks, Campbell won't be in a position to deny it."

His eyes filled with fondness as he listened to her impassioned speech. She injected as much conviction as she could muster in her voice, hoping it would at least convey half of her infinite admiration for him and his abilities.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” he answered in a playful tone, his almost boyish smile unable hide how much her loyalty touched him. “Too bad that you're biased.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on! I don't say it because I love you, but because I truly think you're...”

_Wait, what did I just blurt out?_ she freaked out inwardly as pure astonishment was spreading on his face. 

“...brilliant,” she finished. 

He had stared at her like this once before, she remembered. Months ago, when his mother was sick at Angels Memorial. Dumbstruck. He was positively dumbstruck. 

She opened her mouth to downplay, or apologize, she didn't know...but before she could utter a word, his hands were cupping her jaw and he was kissing her hard, deep, hot, he was kissing her as if he was parched and she was fresh water, making her forget everything but his stirring touch, the heat of his skin, the strength of his body against hers and the roaring of her blood in her veins. 

She was out of breath when they parted but he didn't stop touching her, he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth again, swiftly, once, twice...Her hands were buried in his hair now, so she caressed soothingly his nape, as she had done earlier. 

Their eyes met, what she saw in his sent her heart thumping madly against her ribcage. 

“Say it again,” he whispered against her mouth, his voice hoarse and raw. 

Her heart was so full of happiness, so full of love, she feared it was going to explode. 

“You're brilliant,” she smiled lovingly, innocently, and couldn't repress a joyous laugh when it got her the reaction she wanted. 

He froze for a second, disappointed, and then he laughed, too. They were both still smiling when he tilted his head down and she tilted hers up. 

“I love you,” they mouthed at the same time, before they lips joined once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't too far from the truth in this one, about the turn in Neal's career.  
> I hesitated to dedicate this story to roseandheather because it's "unfinished" but I thought she might at least like the Leanne bit in this chapter :)  
> I hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!


End file.
